Typhoid
by unofficialfansie
Summary: When Crutchie comes down with Typhoid Fever, Jack will do anything to save his brother.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:**

 **So this idea came to me, and now I'm writing it. It's going to be multiple chapters, and it's going to be angsty and dramatic. Also, a lot of the plot won't make sense unless you read the oneshot I posted last week, _Origins_. Please read and review that, and once you've done that homework you can read this and it'll all make sense. Enjoy!**

Jack woke to the sound of the morning bell ringing, signifying that it was time to get up. That was strange. Crutchie usually woke him up just before the bell rang, he liked to get an early start. Looking across the roof, Jack saw that Crutchie was still sleeping, muttering something under his breath. Frowning slightly, Jack walked across the roof and gently shook Crutchie awake. "Hey Crutch, come on. Time to get up." Crutchie groaned and slowly sat up, rubbing his eyes to try and wake himself up. As Jack dressed, he watched Crutchie out of the corner of his eye. Something was definitely wrong with him. Normally, he was bright and cheerful, teasing Jack about how slow he was. This morning, he was sluggish and slow, moving as if every breath pained him. "Ey, Crutchie, you feelin' all right?" Jack asked, watching him intently. "I'm fine Jack, just got a bit of a headache is all," Crutchie answered, fixing his hat on his head. "You sure?" Jack asked, watching as Crutchie positioned his crutch under his arm and began to move across the roof. "I'm sure, Jack. Now quit worryin' about me. There's papes to be sold!" Crutchie managed a smile, and Jack grinned in spite of himself. "All right, Crutch. Here, let me help you down the ladder," he answered, most of his worry disappearing. Crutchie smiled back at him, and they slowly made their way to the street.

"Extra, extra! Hundreds of Typhoid cases across the city!" Jack smiled to himself as he hawked the day's headline. Finally, a decent story he didn't have to improve too much. Glancing across the street, he saw Crutchie in his usual spot, drawing in passerby with his usual routine. Whatever worry had been present for him that morning had almost completely disappeared as he watched his brother across the street, looking perfectly fine. But as he continued to watch, he saw Crutchie become more and more lethargic, frequently rubbing his eyes and yawning when he thought no one was looking. By the time he had sold all his papers, Crutchie looked to be dead on his feet. Hurrying across the street, Jack forced himself to smile as he slowly approached Crutchie. "Hey, Crutchie! You sell all your papes yet?" Crutchie gave him a small smile. "Yeah, Jack. Listen, I'm gonna head back to the lodging house. I'm kinda tired and not really hungry." With that, Crutchie gave Jack a small wave and began to walk back to the lodging house, painfully slowly. Jack stood there for a second, watching Crutchie go, startled at the abrupt end to their conversation. Something had been bothering him all day, and as he watched his brother slowly make his way back to the lodging house, it hit him. Suddenly, he was 10 years old again.

 _It had been a long day of selling papers, as Jack still wasn't the best at drawing in passerby and the headline that day had been lousy. He had said goodbye to Race and walked home, and now he was waiting for his older sister, Mary, to come home from her job at a factory. When she finally walked into their small apartment, Jack immediately knew something was wrong. Mary looked more tired than usual, and her face was pale and tight. She had given him a small smile, declined the watery stew he offered her, and had gone straight to bed. The next morning, she had a high fever and was too tired to get out of bed. Two weeks later, she was dead._

Jack shook his head to clear these thoughts. Sure, there were a lot of cases of Typhoid Fever at the moment, but there was always an outbreak of something sweeping across New York City. Crutchie probably just had a bit of a cold. He would be fine. He always was.

 **A/N: Suspense! So, in case you hadn't noticed by my wonderful foreshadowing skills, Crutchie is going to get Typhoid Fever. I did a lot of reasearch, and it was actually a pretty common and lethal disease in the 19th century. (In fact, Joseph Pulitzer's daughter Lucille died from Typhoid in 1897.) I also researched the symptoms, and let me tell you right now, they are gross. I am going to try to eliminate anything super graphic, but just a warning, there will be some slightly graphic descriptions of illness later on in this story. Anyway, please review and let me know if you have any suggestions or requests for future chapters!**


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N:**

 **So, I wasn't going to upload this until tomorrow, but I decided to upload it today. For some reason, I really like this story. I don't know, maybe I'm just a horrible person. Enjoy**!

The next morning, Jack woke not to the sound of the morning bell, or Crutchie getting dressed, but to the sound of Crutchie coughing. He was immediately wide awake, his heart pounding. He nervously made his way over to the side of the roof where Crutchie slept, and his breath caught in his throat at what he saw. Crutchie was asleep, his face pale and coated with sweat. He was shivering slightly despite being covered by a thick blanket, and from his nose dripped a steady stream of blood. This last was the most distressing for Jack, who knew exactly what that meant.

 _When Jack entered the room his sister was sitting up in bed, trying to stop the blood flowing from her nose with a handkerchief. When she saw him standing in the doorway, she wiped the last of the blood and smiled tiredly. "Go and sell your papers, Jack. I'm just a bit under the weather, but I'll be fine." Jack nodded, and bounded out of the door, selling 10 more papers than he normally did. With the extra money he earned, he bought her a single red rose, which she woke up long enough to exclaim over and thank him for. In the end, it wasn't enough. It was never enough._

Jack came back to reality when Crutchie started coughing again, so intensely that Jack was sure it would wake him. He remained stubbornly asleep, however, so Jack took a small rag from his back pocket and tried his best to wipe the blood from his brother's face. After he had done this, he hesitated a moment. What now? He certainly couldn't afford a doctor for Crutchie, not even with all of the money he'd saved over the years for Santa Fe. He sat thinking for a moment longer, before it finally hit him. Katherine. Katherine would know what to do.

"Jack, what exactly are his symptoms?" Katherine asked, exasperated. They were standing in her kitchen, and she was going through a medicine cabinet on the wall, periodically taking out bottles and setting then carefully in a basket. Jack had shown up on her doorstep at 5 in the morning, telling her Crutchie was sick and asking her to help. Katherine had readily agreed of course, but was now beginning to be frustrated with Jack's vague description of Crutchie's condition. "I dunno, yesterday he said he had a headache and he was really tired and not hungry, and this mornin' he's coughin' and has a fever and a bloody nose and won't wake up," Jack answered, shrugging his shoulders. Katherine stopped suddenly, and slowly turned around to face Jack. "Jack, it sounds like he has Typh-" "No, he doesn't. He can't. It must just be the flu or somethin', right?" Jack interrupted her, anger flashing in his eyes. No. Not his brother too. Sighing, Katherine turned back around and put the last few bottles of pills into the basket, before also throwing in a loaf of bread and some cheese. "Well, I'm not a doctor, but I have a pretty good idea of how medicine works. I'll take a look at him for you." Jack smiled at this, nearly bounding out the door in his eagerness to help Crutchie. Katherine followed close behind, her heart heavy with dread.

 **A/N: So yeah. That happened. I don't think it's going to get more graphic than that, but it might. I'm still deciding. Anyway, please review**! **(Also, if you have any requests please let me hear them! I'm kind of running out of ideas, and I need something to write.)**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N:**

 **Here is another chapter! Please enjoy, I'm pretty proud of this one.**

When Jack returned to the lodging house with Katherine in tow, Crutchie was exactly where he had left him, only now Race was sitting beside him, feeling his forehead and looking concerned. "He's burnin' up, Jack," he said when he saw him approaching, quickly standing so that Katherine could take his place beside Crutchie. "I know, Race, but Kath thinks she knows how to help him, right Kath?" Jack looked to Katherine for confirmation, but she frowned and stood up. "It'd be easier for me to know what's wrong if you could get him inside. Could you?" Jack looked over at Race, who shrugged. "It'd be easier if he was awake," he pointed out, and Jack sighed before kneeling beside Crutchie and gently shaking him awake. "Hey, Crutch, wake up," he gently whispered, and Crutchie groaned and opened his eyes, blinking against the sudden light. "Jack?" he whispered, before beginning to violently cough. When he was done Jack swallowed the lump in his throat and smiled at him. "Hey Crutch, guess what? Kath here is gonna make you feel good as new, you just need help us out a little bit. Can you do that?" Crutchie groaned again as his eyes slipped shut, but he nodded slightly. Jack smiled again, nodding to Race, who helped Crutchie to sit up. They gently helped him to the ladder, where he became aware enough to slowly climb down, holding on to Jack for support. Once they were inside, Race and Jack helped Crutchie to the nearest bed, where he lay down and immediately closed his eyes. Katherine hurried over to him, pulling out her basket and shaking Crutchie back awake so she could ask him some questions. Jack and Race couldn't hear exactly what was said, but after helping Crutchie to swallow some pills Katherine stood up and made her way over to them. "Jack, I know you don't want to hear this, but it looks like Typhoid Fever," Katherine said, exchanging a worried look with Race. "I gave him some aspirin, but I don't think there's anything else to do but wait now." Katherine squeezed Jack's hand and then exited the room with Race following closely behind her. Jack heard their murmured conversation grow softer as they moved farther away, but he didn't move to follow them. He stood, rooted to the spot, and stared at Crutchie's unconscious form.

 _It had been two weeks since Mary had fallen ill, and she wasn't getting better. Her moments of lucidity were few and far between now, and when she did wake up she wouldn't eat or drink anything. Still, Jack refused to give up hope that his sister would make a miraculous recovery. He sat by her bed, holding her hand and waiting. Waiting for her to sit up and be his strong, capable older sister again, instead of a weak, delicate young woman who could hardly move. Suddenly, she stirred and opened her eyes, looking around the room unseeingly. "Mary?" Jack asked in a timid voice, and she turned her head to look at him. "Do you know something Jack?" she asked in a hoarse voice, and when he shook his head she smiled. "I think you're going to be just fine. I think you'll go out into the world, and have a big house with fancy furniture and a wife and children who love you." "You'll be there too, won't you Mary?" Jack asked, wishing she would stop talking like this. It scared him. Mary smiled again and nodded. "Of course, Jack. Didn't I tell you? You're stuck with me." Jack smiled at that, and Mary did too, but then she suddenly looked pained and her hand slowly slipped out of Jack's as her eyes fluttered closed._

"Jack!" Katherine's voice rang loud and clear, startling Jack. "Jack, come on. The other boys are waking up. You should be the one to tell them." Nodding, Jack stole one last look at Crutchie's bed before following her out of the room to tell the other Newsies.

 **A/N: There it is! Do you like this? Hate it? Please review and let me know! (Also, I googled treatment for Typhoid in 1899 and couldn't find a definitive answer, but aspirin was invented in 1897 so I just used that.)**


	4. Chapter 4

**A/N:**

 **Another chapter! Thank you to everyone who has read and reviewed this story so far, please continue! It honestly validates me and makes me want to continue writing. Also, a virtual cookie will be awarded to everyone who finds the Hamilton easter egg that somehow ended up in here, despite my best efforts. Enjo** **y!**

The other Newsies were visibly upset at the news of Crutchie's illness, but they still made their way to the distribution center to buy their papers for the day. Jack was the only one who stayed behind, refusing to sell that day. Race understood, and told him that he would tell Davey and Les about Crutchie. Jack nodded, barely hearing him. All he knew was that he wasn't leaving Crutchie. Not now. He sat by his side, holding his hand and wiping his forehead with cool water every so often. Crutchie muttered and tossed and turned, delirious and unaware of everything and everyone around him.

Davey and Les came at lunch time to visit Crutchie, who woke up long enough to tell Jack he wasn't hungry. After he went back to sleep, Davey turned to Jack. "So he definitely has Typhoid then?" "Looks like," Jack answered, not meeting Davey's eyes. Davey was silent after that, and, surprisingly, so was Les. After a while longer of sitting and watching Crutchie toss and turn, Davey announced that he and Les had better get back to selling. Jack nodded, not looking up as they left.

When Katherine came a few hours later, Jack still hadn't moved from his spot beside Crutchie's bed. "Jack," Katherine started, but he interrupted her. "No, Kath. I ain't leavin' him." Katherine sighed. "Jack, you have to get some rest. I can look after him for a while." Jack shook his head again. "No, Kath. Just no." Sighing again, Katherine sat down beside Jack. "Look, Jack, I know what happened to your sister, but I can promise that it won't happen to Crutchie. He's strong. He's tough." Jack looked over at her, tears shining in his eyes. "You think Mary wasn't?" he asked, holding up his hand to stop Katherine when she tried to speak again. "Katherine, Mary was the strongest person I knew. Practically invincible. But Typhoid don't care about that. It takes and takes and takes, and reduces the strongest person to a useless pile of skin and bones." He looked back over at Crutchie. "I ain't leavin' him. I can't. Not if he's gonna..." His voice broke at this last sentence, and suddenly he was in Katherine's arms, sobbing as she held him. "Shhhh, Jack. Shhhhh," she comforted, but Jack just sobbed harder. Katherine was startled. In all the time she had known Jack, he had never broken down and cried like this. Not when the strike failed, not when Crutchie was dragged off to the refuge, not when Crutchie came back from the refuge, sporting a black eye and an impressive array of bruises but as optimistic as ever. She wasn't entirely sure how to react to this outpouring of emotion from Jack, so she just held him. When he finally started to calm down, so drained of energy and emotion, Katherine stood up and, despite his protests, helped Jack to the nearest bed. Once he was settled and had fallen asleep, Katherine took his place beside Crutchie. She would watch over him tonight.

 **A/N: So much angst! What has happened to me? I used to be funny and sarcastic and snarky! *intently contemplates all life choices* Anyway, please review, let me know if you have any suggestions or requests, you know the drill. (Also, sorry if this was a little short but I should be posting the next chapter later today.)**


	5. Chapter 5

**A/N:**

 **I don't think there's much to say before this chapter except that this is my favorite so far. It's also the longest thing I've ever written. Go me!**

Five days later, Crutchie still hadn't improved much. If anything, he was worse. He was coughing much more frequently, sometimes so violently that Jack had to hold him down to keep him from falling out of bed. His fever was much higher too, and he had been completely delirious for several days. Jack still hadn't gone out selling since Crutchie became sick, and he had had to dip into his Santa Fe (now turned engagement ring for Katherine) fund just to pay his rent, not that he would ever admit that to anyone. He was physically and mentally exhausted too, often falling asleep at Crutchie's bedside then jolting awake from nightmares a few minutes later. Katherine stopped by whenever she could, and the other Newsies offered to help, Race especially, but Jack wouldn't move from Crutchie's side. If his brother was going to go, he wanted to be there no matter what. And that meant staying by his side every minute he possibly could.

On the morning of the eighth day since Crutchie had gotten sick, Jack woke up in bed, unsure how he got there. Panicking, he sat bolt upright and threw the covers off, only to feel hands push him back down to the bed. "Shhhhh, Jack," a female voice he assumed was Katherine's soothed. "How is he?" Jack asked frantically, still fighting to get up. "A little better," Katherine answered, shoving him firmly down and tucking the covers back around him. "He's coughing less, and he woke up briefly, asked for you, then fell back asleep." "If he's askin' for me then I gotta see him," Jack said, but Katherine shook her head and stroked his forehead. "Race is looking after him now, I told him he could have a turn while you took a break. Now be quiet and sleep." Jack opened his mouth to protest once again, but instead he yawned loudly. "See, you need it," Katherine giggled, gently kissing him on the forehead. Jack nodded sleepily, snuggling under the covers before drifting off.

 _Jack blinked, taking in his surroundings. He was standing in a dry field, the sun beating down on his back and the wind kicking up dust around him. "Not as clean and green and pretty as we thought, huh?" a voice behind him said. Jack whirled around, and there was Crutchie, looking just the same as he always did, his crutch tucked securely under his arm. "Crutchie?" Jack asked, unsure what was going on. Crutchie grinned his lopsided grin, chuckling slightly. "Who'd you think I was, the tooth fairy?" Jack smiled at that, still confused but happy Crutchie looked to be back to himself. Then, Crutchie's smile faded. "Where were you, Jack? You was there for her, why not me?" Crutchie gestured at someone behind Jack with a hurt expression in his eyes. Jack whirled around, and there he saw the impossible. He blinked, sure he was seeing things, but the tall figure with dark hair wearing a black dress stayed put. "Mary?" he squeaked, more confused than ever. "Hello, deartháir," she responded, and Jack's eyes filled with tears. Mary. His beautiful, strong older sister. "Jack?" Jack whirled around, facing Crutchie now. "You forgot, didn't you?" Crutchie asked, beginning to cry. Jack shook his head, frantic now, but Crutchie just cried harder. "I knew it," he said, his face falling in a way that was truly heartbreaking, and then he was gone. "Crutchie?" Jack cried, beginning to panic. "Crutch?" "Jack." Jack turned around at this. Mary was still standing there. "Jack." "What?" Jack cried, wishing Katherine were there. She always knew what to do. "Jack," Mary repeated, her expression unreadable. "What?" Jack cried again, and then she was gone. Vanished, in the blink of an eye. Jack collapsed on the ground, sobbing. No. He had lost both of them. He couldn't lose both of them._

"Jack!" Jack bolted upright, breathing heavily. He looked around wildly, until his eyes finally settled on Katherine, whose eyes had a strange, soft expression in them. And suddenly, Jack knew. Crutchie, his best friend, his brother, was dead. No. He bolted out of bed, ignoring Katherine's calls. No. He ran outside, around the back of the lodging house, and threw up. After there was nothing left in his stomach he just retched and retched until he finally collapsed against the side of the building, exhausted. No.

 **A/N: Ooh, cliffhanger! Will I let Crutchie live? Is he really dead? Tune in tomorrow to see what happens!**

 **Translation: _Deartháir_ means brother in Irish. Kelly is an Irish last name, so I thought that Jack's parents probably came from Ireland and consequently Mary and Jack would know how to speak Irish.**


	6. Chapter 6

**A/N:**

 **Here it is! The final chapter! The last installment in this epic saga of fanfiction! I'll shut up now so you can read! Enjoy!**

Jack lay on his side, partially slumped against the wall of the lodging house. He didn't know how long he had been lying there. It could have been minutes, it could have been hours. All he knew was that Crutchie was dead. Without him, time stopped.

Katherine hurried out of the lodging house, following Jack as fast as she could while wearing a long skirt and boots. Bounding outside, she saw the footprints in the mud by the side of the lodging house that she assumed were Jack's and followed them. Rounding the corner, she stopped short. Jack was slumped against the side of the lodging house, a puddle of vomit a few feet from him. When he heard her footsteps he looked up, his expression heartbreaking. Katherine quickly put two and two together. Slowly approaching him, she tentatively sat next to him and took his hand in hers. "C-Crutchie?" Jack asked, sounding small and very, very alone. Katherine smiled what she hoped was a reassuring smile. "He's not dead, Jack. His fever's gone down, he's awake. That's what I was waking you up for." Jack blinked, suprised. Whatever he was expecting, it wasn't this. And then he was in Katherine's arms again, sobbing just as hard as he had that first night, only this time he was sobbing with relief. His best friend, his brother, not dead. Alive. Alive and getting better. Katherine held him and let him cry, days of tension and stress slowly evaporating. Finally she pulled away from him. "Do you want to see him?" she asked, wiping the last of Jack's tears away with her hands. Sniffing, Jack nodded, and Katherine slowly helped him up. She straightened his vest and brushed off the dirt clinging to him, making him look at least slightly presentable. Jack grinned at her and took her hand in his again, leaning up against her. Katherine grinned back, and together they made their way back to the lodging house.

"Hey Jack, c'mon! You'se makin' us late again!" Jack grinned and leaned over the side of the railing as he rolled up his latest drawing. "Aw, hold your horses Crutch! I'll be down in a minute!" Crutchie laughed at that, a bright, musical sound. Jack laughed too, relishing in how good it felt. After weeks of being bedridden as his fever abated and he regained his strength, today was Crutchie's first day back selling. He was the picture of health, almost as if he had never had Typhoid. And for that, Jack was grateful. As he stuck his latest drawing into the container that housed all his other drawings, Jack caught a glimpse of it. Two boys, one leaning heavily on a crutch, walking down a crowded Manhattan street. Beside them was a young woman, elegant even in a simple dress. Jack smiled to himself. His siblings. "Jack!" Jack grinned again at Crutchie's annoyed shout. "Comin'!" he yelled down the ladder, taking one last look around him. Satisfied that everything was in it's place, he ran over to the ladder, stopping just before he began to descend. "Slán, daor deirfiúr," he murmured under his breath. With that, he descended the ladder to the street. Another day was beginning.

 **A/N: There it is! The end! I hope you enjoyed this as much as I have. Please review, just because this story is finished doesn't mean I don't want to read reviews! As always, if you have any requests I will write them to the best of my ability as soon as possible. See ya!**

 **Translation: _Slán daor deirfiúr_ means goodbye dear sister in Irish.**


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